


There is No Moving On

by GorgeousDeduction



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Post-Episode: The Abominable Bride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-04 04:25:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6641374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GorgeousDeduction/pseuds/GorgeousDeduction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John confronts Sherlock about his supposed relationship with Irene, and his own feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There is No Moving On

The door closing heavily downstairs jolts him back to present. The notes above the sofa are now in shadow. 221B has gone dark. Dusk, apparently, had moved in quietly. His legs ache, shirtsleeves rolled, must have been a couple hours standing here. He hears John’s tread as it bring him up to the open doorway. Sherlock resists looking over for one minute, six seconds. A record considering he knows the conversation to come. 

Sherlock glances at him, piecing it together. John’s breath is still coming quick from his ascent. Really? That’s telling. He looks then, taking in the worn denims, but a new button down? And designer brogues. An upgrade too? Not disheveled. Hasn’t come from work then. 

“Worked it out then?”

“Hmm?”

“That I’m here to ask you about her. About Irene.”

“Yes.” He looks back to his partially mapped puzzle in front of him but knows he won’t be able to focus. 

“You two?”

“Obviously.”

“She told me she was gay.”

“Apparently I’m the exception.”

“Aren’t you always.” 

Sherlock hears the jealously, the judgmental put upon sigh and his patience frays. He frowns, looking back, “Did it ever occur to you she could have been lying?” He can’t keep the harshness from his voice. 

“She wasn’t.”

“Oh? A lie detecting expert are we? Have all those useless micro-expressions memorized to instantly spot a tell?” Sherlock waits, watching him for the usual level of frustration to rise. It doesn’t nomally take much. But it doesn’t come. He watches as John moves towards him, footfalls quieted by the carpet beneath them. 

John remains stubbornly silent. What else can he say to piss John off. Well no, not piss him off because he needs him here. The usual deductions don’t work anymore. John’s built up some kind of resistance. He tries again.

“Look, I know why you are here but the repercussions, if I get this wrong, will be catastrophic. Your self-revelations can wait because if you were any good at reading people with those absurd micro-expressions even you’d have worked out that I’d hide that fact that I’ve moved on. Really, they are ridiculously useless and I need to focus!” 

Sherlock turns away. He should have thought that through more. Maybe John will have missed it and he can try a different method of redirecting John from this apparently necessary conversation. Food works.

“I don’t think it can Sherlock.”

He curses the chaos in his brain. He normally has a stronger grasp over response to nervous stimuli. When had John become associated with nervous stimuli? He’s let it get the better of him. He doesn’t have time for this. 

“Wait. ‘Moved on’?” John has the audacity to put his hands on his hips and look puzzled, “Huh. That makes it sound like there was something to move on from.” Of course he wouldn’t miss it! John has gotten much better at picking up the important bits. He’s both amused and frustrated by this. 

“Well there isn’t.” He starts to move but John takes his arm, tethering them. He doesn’t pull away but resists the urge to turn back. Sherlock closes his eyes and waits, ignoring how warm John’s hand is on his bare skin. There’s been more of this between them recently, the touching. But not nearly enough. It’s comforting and all too distracting.

“But there was something. Wasn’t there? At one time.” It’s quiet, John’s voice.

Sherlock yields to John’s pull, turning him around. He thought he’d be stronger when it finally came to this. He risks a glance up at John and sees the steady openness in his eyes. This is the worst possible time and place for this to happen but he can’t hold back, “At one time.” His voice is quite too.

“When?”

“Not really relevant since-” He can’t stop from looking over John’s shoulder despite the fact he knows John came alone.

“Nope.” John shakes his head. “Just us here now.” His grip on Sherlock’s arm loosens as he slides his hand slowly down. Sherlock watches as John’s hand grips his. He can’t help but blink as John’s thumb starts to trace a slow pattern. This is what he wants. More of this. But saying nothing is probably best here, least something else damning slip out. “Irene wasn’t lying. In the warehouse way back then.” John continues.

“Oh?” Sherlock looks up, finally meeting John’s eyes. He seems so sure of this. John can’t actually know. Irene is very good. Convincing. Their eyes lock. So familiar this, a test of wills. Who will blink first. He should. He wants to. He needs to stop this now.

“I didn’t want to see. Couldn’t see, then.” John takes a step closer. “About me. She wasn’t lying about me.” 

Ah. There it is. He feels his eyes briefly slip closed. When he looks again he can see the acceptance in John’s eyes. Denial on his part is useless at this point. 

“It’s too late.” He wasn’t expecting to hear such disappointment in his own voice. 

“Is it?”

“This situation isn’t-”

“Is she lying now?” Neither look away. “Are you?” Both clearly want him to say that yes, it’s all been a farce. Because it isn’t Sherlock’s first time using this ploy. If anyone could understand it would be John. He should understand that it has to be this way, for now. But he misses Sherlock’s silent plea. “You’ve done so much for me. I can never-”

“No. Stop.”

“And I have no right asking you this now.” 

“John.”

“But I was wrong.”

“Please, I need you to leave it.”

“I have to know Sherlock.” 

“Stop!” At this John’s mouth snaps shut and he drops his hand. Sherlock’s voice was louder than he had planed. But he knows what’s at stake, who’s listening, and that he must not let him finish. The predictable frown appears above John’s eyes. He remembers the last time they were standing here like this, with John nattering on. Sherlock cocks his head to the side, squinting slightly as he moves into John’s space. He tries again, quietly, “John, you might want to stop talking now.”

It doesn’t take long. He’s gotten quicker. He sees the second John cottons on. Worry trades for alertness. He watches John’s eyes dart to the corner of the ceiling, then to the lamp by the couch. That’s not where they’ve hidden them, but good guesses. 

“While I’m flattered by your interest...” He risks taking John’s hand, and John’s eyes dart back to meet his. This wasn’t the way he’d thought this would go.

“I am. I’m asking.” 

“I know.” His voice more breath than sound. It’s Sherlock turn to rub his thumb across the back of John’s hand. He knows he’s gotten though as John’s face relaxes and that familiar half smile appears. He takes a breath. “But, I’ve had a break in the case.” He looks up at John through his fringe, “Come with me?” 

“Always.” John is still smiling as he gives his hand a squeeze.

Relieved, Sherlock can’t help matching that half smile with his own.

 

***

**Author's Note:**

> So, this came to me after I saw Lara Pulver's tweet that she was in London shortly after they had started filming S4. It worried me that people were speculating that Irene was coming back and would be in a relationship with Sherlock. This is my attempt to alleviate any unnecessary worrying. But, its taken me so long to write I don't think it's relevant any more.


End file.
